


Reunion

by JustJasper



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, High School Reunion, M/M, School Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid goes with Morgan to his 20 year high school reunion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a 'prize' for devoncarrots after I promised fic for the first person to get an owl-related question answered in the CM chat with Joe Mantegna (nov 2011).
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: Use of an uncensored racial slur (n word).**

_“The past can't hurt you anymore, not unless you let it.” - Alan Moore_

  
  
_“The only way you could look more like FBI is if you were wearing those vest-things you have,”_  had been Fran’s sentiment as Morgan and Reid left her house. The words were in his mind as they sat in the car outside of Derek’s high school, twenty years after he’d left it, Reid picking a piece of thread off his knee and Morgan straightening his tie.  
  
“You ready?” Reid prompted.  
  
“Yeah,” Morgan shrugged. He didn’t feel nervous, at least not until they were walking up to the school doors, with the ‘class of ‘88’ banner pinned above it. Reid, his hands in pockets, was looking around with interest at the surroundings.  
  
“Lockers used to be green.” Morgan noted the lines of blue lockers framing the hallway, how kept it look compared to when he had been there. The paint job looked pretty new, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been repainted with the reunion in mind.  
  
“They were plain at my high school.” Reid offered conversationally as they followed the signage towards the gym.  
  
“Hi there!”  
  
They were being flagged down by a woman wearing a nametag and hovering around a registration table outside the gym doors, the sound of late 80s music and chatter coming from within.  
  
“Hi, who are-” a pause, and then after a beat, “Derek Morgan?”  
  
“Hi Mary,” he said, confident she hadn’t noticed him checking her nametag to place a face to a name. He didn’t remember who she was.  
  
“I’ve got a nametag for you here,” she offered him the sticky label, which he pressed onto his jacket, “and you are?” she turned to Reid.  
  
“Actually I didn’t attend this school, I’m the ‘plus one’ attendants were allotted to bring.”  
  
“Oh. Okay. Well, have a good time, Derek, most people are already here.”  
  
“Thank you, Mary.” He nodded in her direction as the men pushed through the doors. The gym was decked out in such a way it reminded Morgan of many a high school dance; tables of weak punch and buffet food, streamers and balloons and a DJ playing an 80s soundtrack as a considerable crowd mingled.   
  
“So,” Reid said under his breath, not looking at him, “how many of your female classmates did you have sex with? This could be interesting.”  
  
Derek chuckled, peeling the label he’d put on moments before, rolling it into a ball and stashing it in his pocket. He would much prefer to make his own introduction, and he was a little intrigued as to whether any more people would recognise him.  
  
It didn’t take long; several women looked at him appreciatively, trying to work out who he had been. One approached, a black woman with relaxed hair and a sparkly purse under her arm, extending a neatly manicured hand. Rochelle, he recalled before his eyes flickered to her name tag to confirm.  
  
“Derek Morgan?” she smiled at him as he shook her hand, eyelids heavy. She didn’t even glance at Reid.  
  
“Rochelle.” He grinned easily, recalling brief social encounters from a shared circle of friends.  
  
“Well, look at you,” she cooed. “The years have been good to you.” Still holding his hand, her other lifted to squeeze his bicep. “Very good. Wow. What do you do?”  
  
“I work for the FBI,” he said easily. “We both do.” Her reaction was the usual; surprised and impressed, though she still didn’t pay Reid any attention.  
  
“Really? Wow. Do you-” she paused, wiggling her head a little, communicating the casual nature of what he knew she was going to ask, “do you have a badge?”  
  
He reached into his jacket and retrieved it, flipping it open for her to see, and withdrawing it before she could touch it.  
  
“Wow. Who knew someone from our class would end up in the FBI?”  
  
“What do you do?” he asked conversationally.  
  
“Retail management,” she said. “High-end fashion out of Chicago.”  
  
“Ahh, you help women feel beautiful,” he said easily; he knew it took more than clothes for beauty, but he didn’t like the idea that she might feel somehow embarrassed by her own career in the wake of what was often the ‘FBI bombshell’; he had nothing against her, and no motivation for inspiring those feelings in her. It seemed to work, because she smiled warmly.  
  
“I guess so.” Another pause, where she leaned back a little and considered him. “I should-” she waved her hand, “it’s been nice talking to you Derek. We should chat later.”  
  
He turned to Reid as she walked away, and the man’s arms were folded over his chest and his eyes on him. Morgan smiled apologetically.   
  
“How’s that invisibility thing working out for you?” he teased gently. Reid smiled and shrugged. His eyes flickered over Morgan’s shoulder, and then hooked a lock of hair behind his ear.  
  
“I’m going to go get us drinks,” he said. Morgan didn’t have to wonder for long why Reid had made the excuse; it was another woman eager to reintroduce herself. This time he certainly recognised her, she looked almost exactly the same as he remembered her, only plus twenty years and this time his hand wasn’t up her skirt.  
  
“Derek Morgan, is that really you?” she sounded.  
  
“Crystal.” He smiled and accepted the twin kisses to each of his cheeks, and she flashed a grin at him. “Long time no see.”  
  
“I’ll say. You’re looking great.”  
  
“So are you.” He said genuinely.   
  
“I wasn’t going to come to this,” she said, throwing her hair back over one shoulder. “I mean it’s pretty lame, right? But now I’m kinda glad.”  
  
If the flirting hadn’t been obvious, the way she put her body closer and touched his arm would have clued him in.  
  
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to reconnect with people,” he said easily, but dismissively, sidestepping her advancing attempts. He had perhaps been too quick to consider the idea of people coming to their reunion just to hook up as something confined to television. “Maybe we’ll talk again later?”  
  
“Sure.” Derek nodded, not sure he’d take up her offer.  
  
“So,” Reid reappeared with two plastic cups of punch, “did you have sex with her?”  
  
“You know I’m not that fast, baby,” he muttered, sharing a grin. “But we got to third base when I was in tenth grade.”  
  
“How many of these women did you sleep with?” Reid asked over the top of his cup.  
  
“I really didn’t start getting my game on until I got into college. I-” he had spotted a figure striding toward him that he most certainly recognised. Tall, white and broad, still built like the linebacker he had been in school, Mike Jenkins had tormented Derek throughout elementary school, and right into high school until he’d joined the football team. It had mostly stopped, although they had never been friends, and an exchange after a game stuck in his mind; it hadn’t been the first time Morgan had been called a nigger, and it wouldn’t be the last, but the memory of the other’s glee at his anger in response rose in his mind with frightening clarity. Spencer seemed to have picked up on his sudden tenseness, because he could feel the man watching him minutely.  
  
“Derek Morgan!” Mike said loudly, not extending a hand as he came to a stop in front of the other, an inch taller, somewhere wider and heavily, up close a little less muscle than Morgan had assumed. “If it isn’t the star quarterback. How you doing, man?”  
  
“Mike,” he said without answering the question, immediately aware they the man was likely going to try and one-up him at every turn, “what are you doing these days?”  
  
“Coaching football,” he said proudly. “Chicago Soldiers. Number three in the league, not a single loss this season.”  
  
“Congratulations.” Morgan nodded diplomatically.  
  
“I heard you were a cop.” Mike went on, casting a judging eye up and down him. “You made sergeant yet?”  
  
“No-”  
  
“Aaah, shame. Affirmative action can’t do everything for you, eh?” A belly laugh, and Derek saw out of the corner of his vision Reid’s eyes shifting from him to Mike and back, his body language stiffening a little.  
  
“I’m an FBI agent,” Morgan said coolly.  
  
“Oh,” the other nodded knowingly, “what, investigating the banks and stuff?”  
  
“I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit,” his tone was off-hand. “We catch serial killers.” It was a simplified assessment, but it was worth it for the small victory of seeing Mike unable to hide that he was impressed before he forced himself back into nonchalance. His eyes slid sideways to Reid.  
  
“Who’s your friend?” The distain was clear, and Morgan bit back the urge to defend Reid’s honour from judgement. The man didn’t need protecting like that.  
  
“This is my partner, doctor Spencer Reid,” he said instead.  
  
“Your partner in the behaviour unit?”  
  
“We’re more of a team.” Morgan smiled, slipping his arm around Reid’s waist. Reid’s eyebrows twitched upwards in surprise, but then he leant easily into the contact, putting his own hand on Morgan’s back. “But ‘partner’ is also accurate.”  
  
“I-oh-” Mike made a sound like he was broken, and then simply turned and walked away.  
  
“Rude,” Morgan commented. Reid chuckled and leaned closer, slipping his own arm around Morgan’s middle. “That was pretty satisfying.”  
  
“I didn’t think you’d want to draw attention to our relationship,” Reid said evenly.  
  
“What? I’m not ashamed of us,” Morgan said, watching as people glanced their way and sipping at his glass of weak fruit punch.  
  
“I know,” Spencer said. “I just didn’t know whether you’d want to make it a focus point of your exchanges with former classmates.”  
  
“C’mon, these things are all about showing off.” Derek grinned. “And you’re pretty damn impressive.”  
  
They mingled, Derek being recognised by many and having to introduce himself to a few, sharing memories of high school. It was a little surreal; Morgan hadn’t made any lasting connections there, no long-term friendships until he’d gone to college. Reid was eating a canapé of some kind – his fifth or sixth – as a man approached Morgan, smiling broadly.  
  
“Derek!” he clapped him on the arm and Morgan responded in kind, recognising Tyrone. They’d been good friends throughout school, even the first year at different colleges and then lost touch. “Damn, time’s been kinder to you than me, eh?”  
  
“Hey man!” Morgan held his fist aloft and the other bumped his against it. The other man’s eyes drank him in, noticing the hand lingering on the small of Reid’s back.  
  
“This your boy?” Tyrone asked, smile remaining genuine if just a little surprised.  
  
“My better half, dude. Doctor Spencer Reid.”  
  
“Doctor?” Tyrone offered his hand to Reid, who gulped down his mouthful of food and shook it. “You married up, man.”  
  
“Actually I’m not a medical doctor,” Reid began, “although I do hold doctorates in mathematics, chemistry and engineering, and undergraduate degrees in psychology, sociology, and philosophy.”  
  
“Wow,” Tyrone nodded. “What you doing with this idiot, then?” He gestured a thumb at Morgan, but his tone was fond.  
  
“Also, not married yet,” Morgan thought to add.  
  
“No? Where you living, ain’t it legal yet?”  
  
“Virginia, nah, we ain’t got anything except a constitutional amendment against it.”  
  
“That sucks. It’ll happen soon though. Dude I work with in Vermont just got married. To another dude, I mean.”  
  
“Vermont?”  
  
“Yeah, I got a garage, three kids and an ex-wife out there. How’s the FBI treating you? I’ve seen your name in print a couple of times.”  
  
“It’s good, man.”  
  
“I-” Tyrone nodded, as if steeling himself, “I heard about Buford, man.”  
  
Morgan kept his face plain but his throat tightened; he’d known some people would have heard about it. He’d never released a statement but many of the papers had run with the assumption that Derek had been a victim of the man too.  
  
“Yeah.” He nodded shortly.  
  
“You caught the bastard.” He clapped Morgan on the arm again.  
  
“Yeah.” Morgan nodded again, not feeling at all relaxed although he forced his face and his shoulders that way.  
  
“You said hello to the rest of the team?” Tyrone went on, eager to move on from the conversation. “Most of them are here.”  
  
“Oh yeah. Including Mike.”  
  
They shared a look and a laugh, glancing across the room to where Mike was boasting loudly about his football team.  
  
“Funny how some things don’t change,” Tyrone commented.  
  
“And now some things do.” Morgan nodded, sparing a smile for Reid.  
  
Beer emerged from somewhere, and they left quietly, without any substantial goodbyes. Reid had left with several canapés in his hand, and insistently fed one to Morgan as they got into the car.  
  
“Good, are they?” Morgan chuckled around the mouthful.  
  
“You tell me.”  
  
“Mom’s gonna feed us when we get in.”  
  
“I’ll have room.”  
  
“You always do,” Morgan grinned. “She loves that about you, you know. You always eat so much of her cooking.”  
  
The short drive home was quiet, mainly because Reid was eating the food he’d taken from the reunion, scanning Chicago in the evening through the car window. He looked beautiful in the half-light, adorable as he wiped crumbs from his mouth with his thumb. When they parked up in front of Fran’s apartment Reid turned in his seat instead of opening the door, and Morgan picked up on the signal that the man was going to talk.  
  
“Derek,” he started.  
  
“Yeah?” he expected some question as to whether he was okay, considering the brief mention of Buford that had occurred.  
  
“When you were talking to Tyrone, rather than just correcting him on the fact we’re not married, you specified that we’re not yet.”  
  
Morgan couldn’t read the face; he wasn’t sure if he was passively considering him or deliberately keeping his face empty.  
  
“I know it’s not like we need each other’s healthcare or anything,” Morgan said hesitantly. “Or even that it’s ever been a goal, to get married. I just... I didn’t want to rule it out. One day, when it’s legal, we might want to. I know we don’t need it to be happy, I-” he grinned easily and shrugged, but Reid’s eyes remained trained on him.  
  
“There’s a lot of critique to be made of marriage as a social and economic institution,” he said finally. Morgan laughed, because it was just what he’d come to expect from his friend and lover. “The way it’s positioned as an expectation of romantic relationships is proven to be flawed in the rates of divorce and spousal abuse. I didn’t have the most positive model for marriage, it’s likely influenced the way in which I perceive it.”  
  
“Yeah.” Morgan smiled, giving a little shrug.  
  
“But, if you asked me to marry you,” Spencer continued softly, “I’d say yes.”  
  
Morgan blinked a few times, considering the other man. He didn’t look away as he tucked his hair behind his ear, waiting for Morgan to speak. He hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t considered marriage, hadn’t considered them to need it; and while he knew the conversation was much more symbolic than literal, he could still feel his heart beating fast in his chest.  
  
“Spencer, will you marry me? One day, when it’s legal, if we decide to-”  
  
“Yes I will,” Reid grinned, moving forward across the seat and right up against Morgan, taking his face in both of his hands and kissing him. “I love you.”  
  
“I love you too,” Morgan returned, resting his forehead against Reid’s. “Let’s hope my mom doesn’t find out about the marrying thing,” Morgan said, smiling as they separated and both pulled back, reaching for their doors. “She’ll never let it go until she’s forced us down the aisle.”  
  
“I can picture it now,” Reid smiled, waiting for Morgan on the sidewalk.  
  
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he said as he found the other’s hand, their fingers knotting together.  
  
“It was interesting. Maybe even interesting enough for me to consider going to my own when it comes. Only if you come along.”  
  
“I’m up for getting shown off.” Morgan grinned, as they climbed the stoop of his mother’s apartment.  
  


_“I try not to live in the past, he thought, but who knows, sometimes the past lives in me.” - Jamie Ford_


End file.
